I am (a poem)


I am the mouse
who climbed up the side
of the milk pail, intending
only to take a sip. 

Leaning, I slipped,
and landed in a sea
of creamy white.

I am drowning now
in this moment
of sweetness.

There is no option
left, but to surrender
to its delight.

Photo source HERE. 

This post is linked with  Unforced Rhythms and Playdates with God.

Never Lost

One of the twins was missing for a while the other day.  Not alarmingly so, but gone for long enough that I thought to go and look for him.  Striding around the garage, I saw him stretched tall on his tippy-toes at the corner of the back fence where the neighbor’s mulberry bush reaches over.   

That bush drops berries into our yard, like an old woman passing out candy to children, “Here you go dear.  No, no, take more than that.  Do you have a pocket?  Here, let me put some in there.” 

This is my shoeless boy, feet stained purple, and I left him there in his revere without letting him know that I knew where he was, because sometimes, I believe, children need to feel that they are off on their own in the world, wild, dangerous and free.

Later, while cooking dinner, I glanced out the kitchen window to see him squatting in the driveway, washing his little paws in a puddle.  Splashing his hands back and forth quickly, he then stood and turned, satisfied. 

That boy.  With the wide world his home, he will never be lost.   

This post is linked with Five Minute Friday. 

Vacation Descends

 Our kids enjoying ice cream on the porch swing.

We are not on vacation.  

It's the last day of spring and my husband's off from work.  The sky is pale blue like fine china swirled with bits of white.  The sun has swallowed a week’s worth of humidity and breathes out now a cool breeze that has me craving a warm cup of coffee.  

There's a lightness to this day that cannot be pinned to the weather alone.

Though the sky here is clear, I’m certain pigs are flying somewhere because everyone in our house – from the eight-year-old on down to the two-year-old twins – slept in this morning until EIGHT o’clock.  My husband’s alarm went off at five thirty and mine followed suit at six, but thankfully we both had the good sense to slap them back into silence.  

We all woke loose-limbed and sluggish, TIRED, and the oldest boy declared as we lolled on the couches, “I’m going to be lazy all day today.” His copycat brother followed suit announcing without skipping a beat that he was going to “be a kid all day today.”  Then the littlest one added his own plan, “Me gonna be an electric man all day today." 

From there the day unfolds – bowls of cereal, crumbs tracked from room to room, little projects broken up by more food and moments of play as we wander the yard and garden, all of us loose still and relaxed.  My daughter and I re-pott the avocado tree, damaging the roots so that it droops now like a broken-hearted waif standing in the corner of the porch.  On a day like today, though, it seems o.k. and I believe it will recover.

My husband unpacks the hundreds (and I do mean hundreds) of screws and bolts and tentatively starts on the new swing set that’s sat, unassembled, in the garage for weeks.  Even this, the scattered parts unlabeled, arouses no frustration, we'll tinker a little with it and maybe with time it will come together. 

A few weeks ago I told my husband how this new-old house of ours feels like a vacation rental, so full of newness, surprise and possibility.  Something in this space, this time, brings together the elements of rest, play and adventure that form the essential triad of a good vacation.

All of this has got me thinking about vacation – how it isn’t a place to go or thing to do or, worse, to be taken.  Vacation restores an openness and ease that's so often lacking in the pressure of day-to-day life.  This spaciousness softens and restores the human soul.

Vacation descends upon us, if we are willing, in moments unexpected.  The perfect work-day lunch, where last night's left-overs hit the spot and the company is good and the brief pause between what has been and will be done is fully felt, moments quietly stolen with a good book while the kids are Somewhere Else, each of these can surprise us with their spaciousness - the way that what we need is found in the Here and Now in a way we didn't believe possible.  

This morning I woke in my own bed and sat on the couch while vacation unfolded around me – a little bit of lazy, a little bit of play, and a little bit of adventure, all right here, at home.  

This post is linked with The High Calling for their gathering of Best Vacation Stories.  Click on the link to read more stories about vacations near and far.  

What's your best vacation place?  Have you ever felt vacation sneak up on you at home? I'd love to hear about it below!